


Ignorance Of Buddha

by RevolverOtaconAj2



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Adorable, Battle Over The Human Heart, Bounty Hunters, Can You Really Blame them?, Chases, Child Soldiers, Death Drive, Defenestration, Descent into Madness, Duelling, F/M, First Kiss, Floating World, Forgiveness, Hedonism, I'm a sick motherfucker, Innocence, Jungian Shadow, Just let Kohaku have his childhood ffs, Kawaii, Kohaku Needs A Hug, Lust, Mortido, Overcoming PTSD, Protective Big Sis, Protective InuYasha (InuYasha), Rape By Proxy, Rashomon Style, Remorse, Repressed Memories, Sacking Villages, Samurai, Self-Denial, Split Personalities, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Amnesia, That's rare in my work, Timeskip, Unreliable Narrator, Will To Power, Witholding Info, autocannibalism, black and white morality, cathexis, greed - Freeform, moe - Freeform, nothingness, persona - Freeform, precocious crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevolverOtaconAj2/pseuds/RevolverOtaconAj2
Summary: When Kohaku escaped to the loving hands of his sister and her friends, he thought his torment was finally at a end and he would never have to deal with the many sins he committed under Naraku's yoke.He was wrong.
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Higurashi Kagome/Kohaku, Kohaku/Sango (InuYasha), Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Kudos: 1





	Ignorance Of Buddha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yumi_michiyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumi_michiyo/gifts).



> This is inspired by one of the darkest, most fucked up of stories I've ever had the plea read. Not just for content but also for human it made the Inugang feel.
> 
> Don't blame me, blame yumi_michiyo!  
> But to make long things short, I would like to say sincerely to yumi_michiyo; 
> 
> Congrats from one sick sadistic bastard to another! May I hopefully surpass you one day.

Once Kohaku opened his eyes, he knew instantly that something was awry. For starters he wasn’t tied up, as his bloodied, chafed wrists and ankles could easily testify. What futile moments of resistance he could muster was usually rewarded with cold blooded torture that left not a single mark cause Naruku was much too cruel to allow him any respite.

Standing unsteady upon the balls of his feet, Kohaku hit his head on the rotten wood of the ceiling.

“Ow!” He squeaked, the muscle memory in his throat habitually knowing to remain quiet in some childish hope that Naraku wouldn’t come for him if he just pretended to disappear.

Wincing as Kohaku crouched in order to continue going forward, almost despairing in his search for an exit, he eventually managed, albeit with awkward fumbling against the walls to crawl into a larger room. Realizing that he couldn’t continue blinded, Kohaku recalled a trick fat, jolly old Kikujiro the blacksmith taught him when he first practiced with his Kusarigama.

Despite the feeling of sadness that he could not remember somehow associated with the memory, Kohaku practically giggled with delight at his own cleverness in the way only a twelve year old would.

Covering his left eye with his palm, Kohaku waited patiently, praying to the gods that he would have enough time to see this through, his right eye practically tearing up at how unfair the idea was. Tense, and twitching at every droplet of water that fell on his forehead, every bug that crawled up his leg, and every sudden jitter his body uncontrollably shook with, after about twenty minutes he could see in the dark perfectly.

Wherever he was, might at one point had been splendidly decorated was now turned to decaying ruin. Sodden silken tapestries had become rotten nests of termites and spiders, all clumped and piled on the floor, indistinguishable from whatever illustration it had originally held upon it.

Flakes of gold leaf also appeared intermittently, traced upon the walls but much of it ripped out of the wall with deep gouges on what remained. Other than that there appeared to be very little for young Kohaku to see that was of particular unique interest.

All the wood was rotten so Kohaku tread carefully upon the floor, afraid of alerting demons to his presence and getting splinters that he knew well from experience would attract maggots to the bare soles of Kohaku’s feet.

As he moved forward, the dampened floors gave way to a murky puddle ,forcing the boy to trudge through foot long waves of silty water. Minnows and other tiny fish brushed against his feet, sending a shiver down his spine. Had this been back at the village he would have been fascinated, maybe even catching some to bring home as a pet, but he had other things to worry about now. He knew, no knows, that they were out there searching for him and that everything Naraku said were complete and utter lies.

That very same Hope was the one thing that kept him sane throughout everything the demon did to him... But he knew that they wouldn’t even begin to know where to look due to how clever this Naraku was. He was unlike any demon he has ever heard about... scrunching his nose at the foul scents that wafted in the air, all of it redolent with mildew, rotten flesh and feces, and worse smells he didn’t even wish to think about.

Hearing clicking on the ceiling, Kohaku was horrified to discover a jet black centipede as thick and long as his arm dangling above him. Racing to get out of its way, Kohaku crashed into a pile of broken pottery, nicking the ball of his right foot greatly.

The blood flowing from the gash attracted several fish who bit at that same vulnerable wound.

Horrified, it took several harsh stomps to force them to flee and Kohaku rushed out of there in a panic, rejoicing when he found the stairs. Unfortunately, while the upper floor was thankfully dry, the darkness remained. Sitting down, Kohaku struggled to calm himself, clutching his throbbing chest while hyperventilating.

A part of him that wasn’t entirely minuscule wanting to sit there and cry like the child he appeared to be but he just couldn’t. He was almost a man now and there was no way he could give up now when he finally felt so close to getting home...

So he continued onward, swallowing the many fears inside his heart. While these rooms weren’t as damaged as the dungeon below, that was like saying a village hit by a typhoon was better than a village overgrown by grass and other parasitic vegetation.

Everything appeared exactly the same from the moth eaten paper screen doors, the furniture which had whole chunks clawed and bitten off by who knows what, And the ground was swelling with silverfish, long beetles, and lady beetles that he couldn’t help but smash with his feet. As guilty as he felt about it, more pressing matter quickly took over.

Kohaku was beginning to feel significantly parched but he knew better then then to drink it. That algae covered water smelled awful and it stunk of foul humors he knew would make him sick. There was plenty of food though. Kohaku had been taught what types of mushrooms and insects were edible by his teacher and while he remembered being grossed out when he first heard of it, beggars couldn’t be choosers when faced with starvation.

_What he wouldn’t give for a rat to pass by..._

Plus what Naraku considered fine cuisine always had some cruel twist he was happy to block out.

After a certain point all the rooms began to look the same and when he dared to enter it, their contents raised questions he didn't want answered. One of these rooms contained a plethora of torn up clothing, surprisingly dry. Protected from the elements were a rainbow of Kimonos, Obi, Yukata, Hakama, and foreign clothing Kohaku didn’t recognize thrashed against the floor. There were many that Kohaku knew symbolized different seasons. Some were ancient, ragged, dust covered things but there were also those that were still relatively soft. All had brown stains. Inspiration hit him at that instance as he figured out a way to tell everything apart.

Ripping the attire into smaller strips, Kohaku used the soiled garb to mark where he was as he turned around each corner eventually he found the next floor and was almost giddy at the fact that he found tree roots growing through the ceiling. That meant escape couldn’t be far! Just as he was ready to do a jig, to dance in joy out of childish glee, sudden echoing caught his attention.

 _Voices_. Near voices.

As the steps grew closer, Kohaku quickly hid in another room. Seeing the aureoles gleam of a torch, Kohaku silently scurried under a remarkably still standing table so as to prevent them from seeing his silhouette as it danced across the screen. The tongue they spoke wasn’t from Nippon nor did it resemble anything remotely human. Neither did the gnarled twisted shadows they themselves revealed.

 _Demons._ Kohaku realized with a gasp.

Their long necks turned towards him directly. Clamping both hands against his tiny mouth, Kohaku’s legs trembled as urine ran down his well muscled legs, struggling to keep his chattering teeth from revealing his location.

 _Please go away, for the love of Buddha PLEASE!_ Fear turned to terror as the demon pressed his palm against the door. Kohaku was suffocating from being unable to breathe but his primal fear outweighed his need to survive. The demon raked a long sharp talon against it and Kohaku closed his eyes begging for the nightmare to end.

But ultimately his crying lungs ached too much to hold his breath anymore. Wheezing, Kohaku nearly had a heart attack as greedily gulped for air, sobbing uncontrollably because he knew that his need for life would get him killed. It took Kohaku hours to realize that they were gone and even more to gain the courage to try and move forward.

A sudden crash from the ceiling knocked him on his back and only then did he begin screaming. He thought of his village, his mother who died giving birth to him, his father's sternness, but he thought of his sister most of all.

Feeling something dangling above him, Kohaku briefly thought it was another giant centipede. At least until he could see the shining iron of the sharp iron scythe above him.

Kohaku touched it hesitantly, being sure to touch the blunt edge of his upside down weapon. The Kusarigama hung limply, swaying from side to side. Kohaku couldn’t believe what he was seeing even though it was staring him directly in the face.

What was this doing here? Kohaku struggled to remember but was drawing up a complete blank. He recalled being so excited to go on his first mission, even though he was even more nervous the nearer the time drew. He was so afraid of disappointing his father or his older sister, that knots were wrapping his stomach in twine, and he could barely keep anything down for the next couple days until Sango gave him a pep talk about her first mission.

After that all he could recall was pain and blood.

Deep in thought, Kohaku accidentally clutched the sharp portion of his weapon, cutting his hand to the bone. Mashing his teeth as he struggled to ignore the pain, Kohaku gripped his hand harshly as he winced downward. Something pleasant drifted in his nostrils, something familiar... Struggling to place the odor, Kohaku was reminded of lavender, roses, bluebells and other flowery scents That-

That…

“One-San?” His heart soared. _“One-San!”_ He yelped again, his voice wavering. Too filled with hope and bliss to question if this was just one of Naraku’s cruel japes, Kohaku climbed the Kusarigama, not caring a bit if it broke. His weight was light enough to use it as a rope but his injuries to his foot and hand made progress nigh impossible but eventually his love for his sister prevailed.

If he could’ve predicted the horrible sight and events to come that was awaiting above him, Kohaku would have paused for just a second before running back sobbing to the familiar but predictable flaying inside his prison, preferring captivity over freedom, and blissful **ignorance** to **_knowing_**.

For tortures of the flesh will always heal but the deep mortification that torment the mind and blackens what embers of an innocent soul is left never do.


End file.
